


Homage

by nonaestheticwhore



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Other, Platonic Relationships, Possible Romance?, romantic undertones, tommy and tubbo arent shipped with anyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27658535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonaestheticwhore/pseuds/nonaestheticwhore
Summary: Some oneshots. Some romantic, some not. Tommy and Tubbo aren't shipped with anyone because they're minors. If a certain oneshot gets a lot of attention then I might make it into an actual story.[If any content creator mentioned in this story expresses discomfort about it, I will remove it.]
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	1. Goodbye to a World

A scream tore through Tommy’s throat. He was in the middle of lunging towards Tubbo, falling with the other boy. The only difference is that Tommy was still upright when his knees hit the cobblestone beneath him. He reaches out and grabs the green shirt that was slowly being stained red and pulled Tubbo into his arms.

Everyone freezes, the air turning cold as they all turn to see what happened. The ones watching the events unfold being unable to speak.

Tommy clung to Tubbo.

A blood stained hand reached up and cupped his face, “T-Tommy..?”

“I-I’m here big man,” His voice cracked, trying to hold steady as he covered Tubbo’s hand with his own.

“Don’t cry,” Tubbo whispers, a small smile fighting its way onto his lips.

“It’ll be ok big man, I promise.”

“Tommy?”

His hand gripped the one on his face tighter, “Yeah Tubbo?”

“It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself, ok?”

Tommy’s heart stuttered at that, “No, i-it’s going to be ok. You’re going to b-be just fine.”

Tubbo just smiled at him.

“You can’t leave me,” Tommy was begging at this point, “We made a promise, you can’t leave! Please Tubbo… please…”

“I love you Tommy.”

“I l-love you too, Tubbo.”

“Don’t let them bury me in a suit, yeah? That’s too formal for me. And can you play one of the discs? That’ll be a nice send off, don’t you think?”

“I promise big man.”

Tubbo’s smile faltered, his eyes fluttering shut, and his hand going limp. The fighting had completely stopped, everyone just watching the two teens. No one knew who had fired the arrow that pierced Tubbo. No one dared to confess either. So they all stood by, watching in haunted silence. They had just watched the second youngest member of the war die in front of them, the one who just wanted everyone to get along so he could raise his bees in peace.

Eret was the first to move, quickly followed by Skeppy and Bad. Eret tries moving Tommy away, the teen fighting with vigor.

“Let go of me!” He yells, clawing at Eret’s arms, “I’m not leaving him! Fuck off Eret!”

They had managed to pull him a few feet away, letting Bad and Skeppy see if there was any hope for the smaller boy, when Tommy surged forward with new found strength. He shoved the two Badlanders away and clutched Tuboo’s small frame to his chest.

The scream that pierced everyone’s ears carved a hole through their hearts at the same time. He kept screaming, no actual words leaving his mouth, only heartbroken wails.

Wilbur stepped forward this time, slowly kneeling next to his younger brother. He reached out and placed a hand on the shaking shoulder. He knew Tommy would come to him when he was ready and forcing him would only make it worse.

They sat in that position as the minutes ticked by, soldiers around them removing their helmets in respect. As the third minute ticked by, Tommy finally moved. He turned and collapsed into his brother’s arms. Wilbur let him, pulling the teen close and cradling his head.

Full tears finally fell, soaking Wilbur’s clothing. Tommy’s throat felt raw and the tips of his fingers numb. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

It wasn't supposed to be Tubbo.


	2. The World Sends It's Farwell

“TOMMY!” Tubbo screeched as the younger boy was hit by a piece of flying debris. 

Everyone watched in horror. Someone pulled Tubbo into a hug, shielding his eyes from the gruesome scene.

“LET ME GO-” He yelled, hitting whoever was holding him, “LET ME SEE HIM!”

The person holding him hadn’t expected him to be this strong. He ripped himself away, cries from the people around him ringing out. Some telling him to stop, some telling someone to grab him.

He figured out why. Tommy’s body was destroyed, crushed by the debris. He would’ve died on impact, there was no hope.

That thought ran through Tubbo’s head and he collapsed next to his best friend. No one moved. He had already seen it, there was no point in pulling him away now. They all expected him to cry, to scream out about how unfair it was. But the boy was just quiet, they heard him whispering something that none of them could make out, but no other noise was heard. 

Tubbo slowly stood up, his fist clenched tightly. 

“Tubbo..?” Wilbur spoke first, “Are you ok?”

The small boy rounds on him, fury shining bright in his eyes, “You don’t get to ask me that question.”

“What?” WIlbur took a step back as Tubbo advanced.

“None of you get to ask me that question except for Niki. She’s the only one who EVER took into consideration that me and Tommy were just kids. 

“We’re fucking kids, Wilbur. We shouldn’t have been forced to fight in this stupid ass war,” He was directly in front of Wilbur at this point.

Wilbur put a hand on his shoulder, “J-Just calm down, yeah?”

“Calm down?” Tubbo shrugged the taller man’s hand off and grabbed the front of his shirt, forcing Wilbur to look him dead in the eyes, “You want me to calm down when my best friend was just killed in front of me because you are too fucking incompetent to not bring children into your dumbass hissy fits?

“You expect me to calm down when all of you have been too goddamn selfish to give a rat’s ass about the two of us? None of you bothered to check on us! None of you dared to ask how we were coping! Tommy got fucking exiled from his own nation and watched his brother spiral into madness and NONE OF YOU BOTHERED TO CHECK ON HIM!” By the end of his speech he was turned to face all of them, having shoved Wilbur to the ground.

Techno stepped forward, opening his mouth to say something when Tubbo cut him off, “You don’t get an opinion on this. Neither do you Schlatt. Or Dream for that matter. None of you can say jack shit about this because you aren’t any better than Wilbur. Techno you literally tried to publicly execute me at a festival that Schlatt planned and forced me to decorate. Dream you willingly agreed to a duel with Tommy knowing you’d win. You all are awful people and none of you have the right to comfort me or be anywhere near Tommy.”

His voice broke as he said Tommy’s name. A hand rested on his shoulder, he turned to snap at whoever it was, but found it was Niki. He hesitated before letting her pull him into a tight hug. He stood there, almost unwilling to cry in front of the soldiers surrounding them before his composure finally broke. He clung to her and sobbed. All the rage, despair, hopelessness, fear, everything that had been building up since the first war finally flooding out. 

He sobbed for Tommy, who had to die with all those emotions buried in him.

“It’s not fair,” He chokes out, not caring if anyone heard him.

“I know,” Niki answers, “I know it is.”

“Why Tommy? He was supposed to do great things. He was supposed to become president..” Tubbo babbled, “...it should’ve been me.”

“Tubbo-” Fundy says.

“NO!” He screams, not letting Niki go, “It’s true! I’m not a leader! I don’t have the same passion as him! Hell, we made a promise to protect each other and I fucking failed him! I can’t even do the one thing I promised!”

His voice cracked, the screams coming from him enough to silence the fighting completely.

No one moved. No one dared to speak either, just looked on in grief. Schlatt, Wilbur, Dream, and Techno stood together, sending glances towards the other three. How were they supposed to move from here?


	3. Alone At The Edge Of A Universe

Wilbur stared into the sky, darkened by the thick smoke that rose around him. The heat circled around him, licking at his face and threatening to burn him alive. Everything was eerily quiet, no more screaming or wailing. Just silence. He didn't know what he felt.

No, he did know what he felt. He felt cold, oh so cold. The heat from the flames that encased everything around him doing nothing for the chill that had settled into his bones long ago.

He laughed, what else was he supposed to do? He had won. He was victorious for once in his life. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as he cackled. It carried across the now barren landscape, no buildings to stop it. His laughter full and yet so empty.

He glanced around, destruction flooding his vision. He saw bodies, so many bodies. He walked towards the stage where Schlatt once stood.

Sam, Fundy, Techno, Purpled, Bad, Skeppy, Ponk, Punz, Karl, Eret, Niki. He passed all of them, not sparing them more than a glance.

He now stood in front of the remains of the stage, Quackity's body thrown somewhere unknown. Schlatt's body had been strung up in the blast, swaying in the wind as Wilbur stared at it.

Schlatt's body was hung from the support beams that held the roof of the stage up, his suit having been snagged. His blood dripped onto the ground below him, staining the earth a dark red along with the blood of his citizens. 

Wilbur's vision shifted downwards to the two bodies in front of him. They were curled around each other, almost as if they died trying to protect the other. Wilbur smiled, it seemed like the two couldn't be separated, even in death. Always wanting to protect the other.

Had he ever felt that way? Once, in a time that felt like eons ago, he too would've been curled around the younger boys. He would've been naïve enough to think he could save them. 

He stared at the two of them, his thoughts wandering to a time where everything was simple. 

The smell of ash was the only thing telling him that he was still alive. He had nothing and everything all at the same time.

He looked behind him, gazing at the bodies of his once friends and family. His eyes landing on the orange hair, small black ears poking out from it. His chest hurt. Why did his chest hurt?

His hand flew to grip his shirt, breaths coming out shorter and quicker. He stumbled, his mind racing,

Was he dying? He hadn't gotten caught in the blast. Was it the ash? 

He couldn't tear his gaze away from the fox hybrid sprawled out in front of him. His knees hit the ground, a shockwave flowing through his body.

He wanted to rip his jacket off, his skin suddenly burning. The smell of ash increasing ten fold. His senses were tearing him apart as the rational part of him realized what he'd just done.

Crawling over to Fundy, he tore his jacket off. His hand reached out and cupped his son's face, tears welling up in his eyes. How could he do this?

Wilbur pulled Fundy's body close to his own, feeling a drop of water hit the top of his head. The sound of rain drops hitting the stone around him, slowly becoming harder. 

His voiced ripped from his throat, raw and full of pain. Pain he didn't deserve to feel. He had done this, he doesn't get to mourn them. But as he sat in the pouring rain, his son pulled against his chest, he let his emotions run wild. Guilt and pain ate at him. He didn't deserve to stay here.

His mind was fuzzy as he stood. A daze over him as he cleaned the bodies of his friends. He gave them the best funeral he could, but it was difficult with one person burying fifteen bodies by himself. 

He stared at the ruins of what was once his nation. Maybe some day someone would find it and rebuild it. Maybe it could become half of the greatness it once was. But for now, it stood with crumbling walls and a line of graves with makeshift headstones. 

"My unfinished symphony." Wilbur's final words breathed over the land before he turned.  No materials, just the guilt he would be forced to live with for the rest of his days. 

He was right about someone finding it. Two boys, stumbling across moss covered ruins. 

As they stand at the base of a stage that had been reclaimed by the surrounding foliage, the blond one turns to the brown haired on and murmurs, "How wicked is this, big man?"


	4. How To Never Stop Being Sad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to shove a massive trigger warning on this chapter. It deals with heavy subjects and if you are struggling with mental health then know you aren't alone and you can get help.

Dream sat in his bed. For how hot the summer months had been, he had a chill settle through him. A weight deep in his stomach, curling up into his chest and throat. The sunlight streaming in from the partially opened shades doing nothing to warm the endless cold he felt. The notebook thrown towards the edge of the bed opened, revealing the messy scribbles that lined the pages. Poems. He found he could vent through poems. He knew his friends were worried but the fear of losing them because of his trauma made him seclude himself. Push them away yourself before they choose to leave, it’ll hurt less he told himself. 

He told himself a lot of things. If you give back, it’ll make up for how shitty you were. You just burden everyone so giving them gifts will take their minds off that, even if just for a little bit. He lied. He always lied, he knew the gifts were just to appease them until they saw the ulgy truth. The truth that he was unlovable. Who would willingly love him. 

A phone call startled him out of his thoughts. He glanced at his phone, the name on the screen reading ‘gogy :)’. He wanted to answer it, he really did. But before he could pick it up and click the answer button, the call ended. He didn’t have enough strength or courage to call back. He was a coward, he knew that much was true.

George didn’t call back.

He dropped his gaze to the notebook. He had nearly filled the entire book. All of his pointless thoughts being turned into lame lines. Some might call them beautiful, but Dream saw nothing in those words but his own failures and mistakes. They weren’t beautiful, they were disgusting. They brought nothing but numb thoughts and pitiful stares. He knew he was spiraling, but why couldn’t he bring himself to care?

Because no one wanted to help.

It was clear. His family hadn’t contacted him in weeks, even his sister. He stopped talking to his friends around three days ago, losing the only source of consistency he had. He watched all of them grow from the backseat, knowing he wasn’t the main character anymore. He didn’t want to be. He didn’t deserve to be. That role was reserved for someone who people looked up to, a role model. He wasn’t a role model, not with the numbness that grew through his bones like vines. He couldn’t bring himself to stream anymore, his only content being ruined by people accusing him of cheating. 

He was done fighting it.

He found comfort in the silence that filled his house, only moving to feed Patches or clean up after her. He’d manage to make something small for himself to eat when he did get up, a bowl of cereal normally. Patches being the only thing keeping him from withering away completely.

His phone rang again. ‘Sappy nappy’. His heart ached to grab his phone and hear his best friend’s voice, his brain knowing that it will only end worse. 

His heart won.

“Dream?” He almost sobbed at his friend’s voice, “You haven’t been answering us for days. What’s going on?”

He had to fight for his voice to work, “Sorry. I just needed a break, I should’ve said something.”

“Yeah you should’ve,” He winced. Oh god, he managed to make his best friend hate him. He’s ruined one of the only good things in his life. He-, “What’s your address again?”

“Wh-what?” He was dragged out of his thoughts by the question.

“Just answer the question.”

He gave his address, confusion thick in his voice as he waited for Sapnap to explain his odd request.

“Great, me and George will be there soon.” The call ended.

He jerked his phone away from his ear. What did he mean they’d be here soon? Dream glanced around his room, knowing he needed to clean. They couldn’t find out. He wouldn’t let them. But as he tried to find some sort of motivation to get out of bed, the only thing he managed to find was more hopelessness. Why should he care? They’d leave anyways, better now then later.

He layed back down, green eyes gazing at the wall across from him. His thoughts drifted away from him, what was there to think about anyways? He already knew he was pitiful. There was no reason to remind himself. He pulled the covers tighter around him, the cold in his bones canceling the warmth in his room. 

His phone vibrated.

His hand reached for it without him fully realizing it.

_Unlock your front door._

_There’s a spare key under the flower pot to the left._

His mind didn’t connect the dots of what was happening until he heard his front door open and Sapnap’s voice intrude his thoughts.

“Hey Patches!”

“She’s cuter in person,” George’s voice intermingles with Sapnap’s. 

There was muffled whispering, his heart screaming at him to get up and run downstairs into their arms. His brain won this time, he didn’t look away from the same spot on the wall. Footsteps echoed up the stairs, closing in on his bedroom door. The door creaked open.

“Dream…?” George’s voice sounded so soft, it made Dream want to cry.

He didn’t move, knowing they knew he was there and awake. The bed dipped behind him, a gentle hand placing itself on his shoulder. 

“Dream?” He tries again, his determination slowly breaking Dream.

He turns his head, green eyes meeting brown. His heart won. He forces himself up and into George’s arms. He held the shorter man close, he could feel the warmth radiating off of him. Another pair of arms wrap around them. He felt so warm, the cold in his body struggling to keep its hold on him. They sat there for what felt like hours, no one talking. 

“Dream, we have to talk about this,” Sapnap whispers.

“I know,” He mumbles back, “Just please don’t let go of me, not yet. I’m so cold.”

His friends pull him in tighter, determined to warm him up. They didn’t know he wasn’t physically cold, but Dream didn’t care. He was finally warm again.


	5. The Other Side Of Paradise

Tommy lived alone. He didn’t mind it, the independence was nice and he didn’t have to worry about stupid adults telling him what to do all the time. He did mind being alone all the time, he wasn’t a fan of not living near someone he knew, but Tubbo was still living with his parents. So Tommy dealt with it, he busied himself with renovating the old house he had managed to buy. He was shocked at how cheap the house was for having four bedrooms in it, but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. With what was happening though, he almost wished he had.

For the past few weeks, he had been hearing and noticing weird things. His items would go missing only to turn up in random rooms. His golden items often ended up in the room at the far end of the hallway and his guitar in the room on the left side of the hallway. He also could’ve sworn he had heard someone playing his guitar on multiple occasions. It was always a sort of sad tune and whenever he’d walk into the room on the left side of the hall, it stopped. 

“Tubbo, I’m serious! I think this house is fucking haunted dude!” He complained to his best friend.

“Then try to talk with them!” Tubbo exclaims, “Maybe they’re nice!”

“And what if they aren’t?” 

“I dunno, then you get possessed I assume.”

“TUBBO!”

The boy on the other line laughs, “That’s the best advice I can give you Tommy. Mum is calling me for dinner so I’ll talk with you later, yeah?”

“Right, talk to you later.”

The line goes dead and he pockets his phone. He perks up when he hears his guitar being played once more. He stops walking, listening to the soft cords. It sounded lighter than he was used to, happier. 

Tommy remembered what Tubbo had told him and inhaled shakily. He climbed the stairs quietly and made his way to the room he often found himself in. He stood outside the door, weighing his options. Did he just walk in or did he knock? If the ghost had lived here before him, he could only assume this had been their room. Therefore, it would be appropriate to knock.

He raised his hand and, before he could change his mind, knocked three times. The guitar cut off immediately causing him to panic.

“W-wait!” He says quickly, “You don’t have to stop! I just wanted to talk to you!”

There was no response and part of him said that he was insane for doing this. He ignored it.

“Can I come in? I think it’s only fair we meet seeing as I live here too.”

Again, there was no response, but he felt more comfortable entering the room than he had before he asked. He gently pushed the door open, expecting to find the room entirely empty.

To his surprise, on the floor of the room sat three figures. They were pale and see through, but they were definitely there. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of the three. One had blond hair tucked into a white and green striped hat and a dark green jacket wrapped around him, he had a kind look in his eyes. The second had curly brown hair and a yellow jumper, he held the guitar in his lap and wasn't looking at Tommy. The third had long pink hair tucked into a braid and a red cloak draped over his shoulders.

He sharply inhaled, “H-Hi.”

The blond one spoke first, “Hello.”

“I-I’m Tommy,” He offers his name first, his mind telling him it was the most polite thing to do. The second thought running through his mind asking why he needed to be polite to ghosts.

“I’m Philza, but please just call me Phil. This is Techno and Wilbur,” Phil said gesturing to the pink haired male then the brown haired one, “We apologize if we startled you.”

Tommy quickly shook his head, “Not at all! I was just curious about my gold going missing and the random guitar playing.”

“The gold thief is Techno,” Wilbur says as he starts strumming the guitar again, still refusing to look at him.

“Can I sit with you guys?” He didn’t know why he was being so careful.

“Of course!” Phil says, his smile growing.

Tommy sits himself down between Wilbur and Techno and crosses his legs, interlocking his fingers together in his lap.

“We thought you were afraid of us,” Techno’s voice was monotone and made Tommy jump slightly.

“I’m not scared of you. I’ve just never owned a haunted house before, I wasn’t exactly sure what to do since you all ran away from me when I tried to get close.”

“You didn’t change the rooms,” Wilbur mumbles, not looking up from the guitar.

“It didn’t feel right. It’s why I chose the room I did, it felt the least unoccupied,” As he explained, he realized how stupid he sounded, “S-Sorry, that probably sounds dumb as shit.”

He goes to stand, but a cold hand catches his wrist, “Don’t leave. Please.”

He looked at Wilbur, who had finally looked up from the guitar, and slowly sat back down.

“We haven’t been able to interact with someone other than each other in a while. No one wanted to buy this house so we’ve been alone.” Phil explains, “We would really like to get to know you Tommy.”

Tommy feels drawn to them, like he’s known them his whole life. And so he sits there with three ghosts as they tell him about their previous life.


	6. My Tears Are Becoming A Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally just blacked out while writing this and barely paid attention while I was writing. This is six and a half pages long. Oh my god dude what happened to me??

This couldn’t be happening. 

“Wait,” Tommy pleads, “Just hold on a second! Tubbo, what’s going on big man?”

Tubbo looked at him, a pained expression in his eyes, “I’m sorry Tommy, we don’t have any other choice. Dream is really mad about this.”

His heart dropped, “So you’re just throwing me out? Again?”

No one looked him in the eyes, those fucking cowards. He was getting thrown out of his own nation for the second time, though he supposed it was his own fault this time. He didn’t mean for his prank to go that far though!

“You need to be taught a lesson,” Dream’s voice makes him jump, “You’ve pulled this shit for far too long and I’m sick of it.”

He flinched at Dream’s tone, it reminded him too much of Wilbur. Wilbur who was currently being held in a cell next to Schlatt, the two of them prisoners of L’Manburg. He could feel his hands start shaking, but he refused to drop his demeanor.

“I apologized and offered to pay for and fix the damages! This is ridiculous! None of you did this when Tubbo’s house was burned down!”

“Because his house wasn’t burned during a time of peace.” Dream hisses.

He refused to look away from Dream, the two of them locked in a staring contest. He wanted to say something, to snap at the man in front of him, but the look Tubbo was giving him kept him quiet.

The hands gripping his arms tightened, he winced slightly.

“What should we do with him?” Punz asks from his left.

Dream looked towards Tubbo, “I propose he be exiled for committing an act of arson during peacetime. What he did can be considered a war crime and, therefore, should receive a just punishment.”

Tommy’s eyes go wide, “Hold on a damn second! That’s not a fair punishment!”

Tubbo didn’t look at him, “I wish to uphold the peace treaty we have signed, if that is what you believe to be just, then so be it.”

That broke him, his breathing becoming shallow, “Tubbo, what the hell man?!”

He could hear his voice crack. He couldn’t hide it anymore, he was terrified. They were on the outskirts of L’Manburg and Dreamland territory, one push from being outside the nations. One push was all it took.

“Tommy Innit,” Dream starts looking him dead in the eyes, “As of this moment you are hereby exiled from L’Manburg, the Dreamlands, and the Badlands. You will be executed if you set foot into any of the three nations I have just named. We do not welcome war criminals in this time of peace.”

For a second no one moved, including Tommy. This was just some sick joke, right?

“If you do not vacate the borders of these lands, you will be executed. Do I make myself clear?” Dream reiterated as his hand reached for his axe.

That was enough to get Tommy moving. He turned and sprinted. He ran as far as he could, not stopping till the sun was nearing the horizon.

How could they? He was a child for fucks sake!

Maybe Wilbur was right.

“What…?” He spoke out loud, his own thoughts shocking him.

Maybe Wilbur  _ was  _ right. Maybe no one actually cared about him, none of them stood up for him. How could he just blindly trust them? They had just proved that they couldn’t be trusted.

He set his shoulders, a newfound confidence radiating off of him. He knew what he needed to do.

He had to finish Wilbur’s plan. He had to become the villain.

It had been nearly two years since Tommy had been exiled. He had gotten stronger, fought his way through the ranks and earned his own name. He had perfected sword fighting and hand to hand fighting. He carried enough weapons on him to open his own shop. No one knew his name anymore, he made sure to bury it. The people knew him by the red bandana he had wrapped around the bottom half of his face, the rest of it covered by the hood of a black cloak. He couldn’t care less to learn what they called him, he only knew that they feared him. It made him feel powerful.

It made him feel good. 

The power coursed through his veins. He had wanted to return to his old home for some time, but waited. The longer he waited, the easier it would be.

He decided it was finally time, so as he cautiously walked through the entrance of L’Manburg, he felt a rush of anger. He continued his way through the nation, taking in the changes that had been made. It seemed like there was a festival that was taking place, decorations strewn about.

He reached a small clearing, a table sat in the middle of it. He quickly realized he had stumbled across a lunch meeting between his old friends. What shocked him more was the three familiar faces he saw sitting among them.

They had let Schlatt, Wilbur, and Techno back, yet they had thrown him out? How was that fair?

He reached up to pull the red bandana over his nose before slinging the bow off his shoulder. He quickly notched an arrow in place, taking aim at the table right in front of Dream. He pulled the bow back, letting the arrow fly. It landed with a thud, all of them immediately on guard.

He had no intent to kill just yet, only to make them aware of his presence. 

They looked up towards where he was. There was no point in hiding, so he stood tall. He gazed down on them, noticing how Tubbo was being guarded by, what looked to be, an enderman hybrid. 

“Identify yourself.” Dream speaks with authority.

Tommy jumps down, landing a few yards in front of them, “I don’t have to answer to you. We aren’t on your land.”

“This garden sits in the middle of L’Manburg and the Dreamlands.” The man snaps at him.

“I am not on your side, I still do not answer to you.”

“Do what he asks.” Tubbo demands. His voice had gotten deeper and he had grown, his hair was shorter and he had finally grown into his suit.

“I have no name.” It sounded stupid, but Tommy wasn’t about to reveal himself this quickly.

“You sound like a fool,” George speaks up.

Tommy held no hesitation in firing an arrow into the ground between George’s feet before any of them could move.

“Watch your tone, George.” 

“What do you want with us?” Tubbo intervenes, “There clearly aren’t more of you and you can’t take all of us at once unless you have a death wish.”

“Perhaps I do have one, Mr. President. Or has your term expired? Shall I call you Tubbo in that case?” He taunts.

“He is still president. Answer his question.” The enderman hybrid says.

Tommy chuckles, his laugh slowly turning to a cackle before he looks at them again, “I merely want you to answer a question for me.”

“What kind of sick game is this?” Schlatt demands.

“I-” Tommy starts, looking towards Dream once more, “-simply want to know why you let those three back.”

“I beg your pardon?” Wilbur asks.

“I wasn’t talking to you, was I Wilbur?”

“Because they proved they deserved it.”

“They deserved to be let back into the cabinet, yet you chose to exile a child? Now where is the rationality in that Dream?”

They all freeze, some of their eyes going wide as it dawned on them who was standing there before them.

“Tommy…?” Niki asks quietly.

He reaches up and pulls his hood and bandana down. He had changed quite a bit during his exile. His hair had gotten much darker, it was an ash brown now, his eyes had lost the spark they had in them. He had grown even taller, he was almost the same height as Sam now. Scars littered his face from his many brawls, the rest of his body sparing the same fate. The worst scar running from his left ear, across his face and cutting into his lip before going down his jaw and disappearing under his shirt towards his right shoulder. He wore them with pride, they showed all he had endured and survived.

“You threw me out, yet you welcomed them back with open arms.” He stepped forward with each word he spoke. Dream’s hand stalling everyone’s movements to stop him, “You called me a war criminal, yet you treated the man who attempted to destroy this entire god damn nation like a brother. How dare you.”

He was nose to nose with Dream, the green eyed man having let his mask sit on the table next to him. He towered over the man he once had to tilt his chin up to look at.

“I did what I had to do.”

He grabbed the green hoodie with both hands, balling the material up and dragging Dream closer to him.

“You’re a fucking liar. I looked up to you. I wanted to be you one day Dream. And you turned around and threatened to fucking execute me. You are the world’s biggest douchebag and I’m here to get my revenge.”

Hands grabbed his arms, just like before. Except this time, he was strong enough to throw them off. He pulled Sapnap into a chokehold, the smaller man instinctually trying to pull him off.

“Tommy, what are you doing?” Wilbur sounded distraught.

Blue eyes met brown as a smile worked its way onto his face, “Isn’t it obvious Wilbur? I’m doing exactly what you wanted to do two years ago.”

“Tommy, what does that mean?” Techno asks, Tommy was surprised to hear emotion thick in the piglin hybrid’s voice.

His smile got impossibly wider, “Just because Wilbur was a coward, doesn’t mean I am.”

He pulled a small device from his pocket, not letting Sapnap go. Their eyes went wide, panic painting itself on all of their faces. Oh how he loved that look.

“How…?” Quackity mumbles.

“I’m one of the most feared pvp players in this world, Mr. Vice President. How hard do you think it was to get petty thieves to do the dirty work?

“I am going to do what Wilbur couldn’t and there is nothing any of you can do to stop me.”

“Tommy, don’t do this,” Ah he knew that voice.

His smile grows, “Oh but father dearest. I have to. There is no other option.”

Phil steps forward, “There is, just let Sapnap go and put the device down.”

The laugh Tommy lets out chills them all to their core, “I don’t care! I don’t care if there’s another way. This is the way I want. And I am done not getting what I want.”

He felt his thumb hit the button, seconds later screams filled the air along with distant explosions. The ground shook, his grip on Sapnap slipping. 

He heard orders being shouted, he felt hands pulling at him, he heard people screaming at him. But all he felt was euphoria. It felt so good to push that button, it was almost a shame Wilbur could never experience this.

He stared at all of them as they looked at him with horror.

“Don’t you see Wilbur?” He says, looking his brother in the eyes, “You were right the entire time and you couldn’t even tell.”


	7. Clair de Lune

George didn't like saying he loved Dream or Sapnap. That meant commitment and that meant he could lose them. He couldn't handle that, so no matter how many times the phrase was shot in his direction, it was never said back. 

George also had a sleeping problem. He hated sleeping at night and usually slept during the day, when the sun warmed the air around him and he didn't have to seek heat from copious amounts of blankets. The night brought trust issues for him. The echoes of long forgotten voices whispering to him as he sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the soft breathing of his two companions. He shook his head, trying to physically wave away the bad thoughts. 

He heard someone shift behind him, causing the muscles in his shoulders to tense. He held his breath, hoping they would just go back to sleep.

"George?" Sapnap's sleep riddled voice breaks through the darkness.

"Hey Sap," He answers, turning around, "Sorry, did I wake you?"

He hums, "No, Dream hit me in his sleep I think. Are you ok? You sound upset."

George's voice caught in his throat, "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Just can't sleep."

"That's a lie. What's wrong, I can tell you're about to cry."

His eyes burned, he couldn't drag them into his issues. They'd be revolted by him.

"Dream," He barely registered Sapnap trying to wake the other boy up, "Dream wake up."

The freckled boy groaned, "Why the hell are you waking me up when it's still pitch black out?"

"It's George."

That got Dream's attention. He straightened up, looking towards the brown haired boy. George tried to wipe his eyes before either of them saw the thick tears that rolled down his face. He started crying harder when the tears wouldn't stop.

"Hey," Hands tugged at him, pulling his back flush against someone's chest, "What's going on?"

"Nothing. It was just a nightmare."

"We all know that's not true George, you don't sleep at night." He could feel Dream's voice more than he could hear it. 

It rumbled deep, still heavily intertwined with sleep. It shot down his spine and to the tips of his fingers. Dream's voice made him feel safe, he felt himself melt into the man's chest. 

"I-I'm sorry." Was that really the only thing he could say? Was he that pathetic?

Hands gripped his, "You haven't done anything, why are you apologizing?"

He choked down a sob, feeling the muscles behind his back stiffen and the hands connected to his tighten. He couldn't say anything. He just sat there, crying like a child. His throat tight, forcing hiccups up.  _ Pathetic. Worthless. They're disgusted by you. Just leave now. _

"George, can you look at me?" A gentle hand grips his chin, his head rising to look into black eyes filled with concern, "What's going through your head?"

The words slip out before he can stop them, "That you two hate me as much as I hate myself."

He pulls his hands out of their grasps and clamps them over his mouth. He didn't mean to say that out loud. 

"What..?" Was all that Dream could say. 

They sat in silence for a few seconds, the other two processing what he had said.

"I'm s-sorry," He stumbled over his words, muffled by his hands, "I didn't mean to-"

He's cut off by Dream forcing him to turn around, large hands cupping the sides of his face.

"You-" Dream starts, "Are absolutely wonderful. Neither of us hate you, whatever your head is telling you is wrong. You are so amazing George."

He shakes his head, speaking through his hands, "I'm not! Everyone leaves me! They always do, it's only a matter of time before you two do as well! I'm unlovable, you just pity me and then you're going to get bored!"

Hands reconnect with his and pulled them away from his mouth, his eyes shifting towards the black haired man, "That isn't true. Neither of us are leaving you anytime soon, no matter what your mind tells you. We care about you too much to lose you."

He wanted to laugh. The gentle touches breaking him down. He didn’t deserve to be treated with this much care. His hands were pulled away from his mouth, his eyes drifting to the black haired man sitting next to him.

“You deserve to be loved George.” Was all Sapnap whispered.

Tears welled up in his eyes again, he wanted to tell them they were wrong. He didn’t deserve it. But as he sat there, small circles being rubbed into the insides of his wrists, his voice failed him.

The moonlight streamed all around them as George decided that maybe, just maybe, he could allow himself to feel loved for one night.


	8. Infinite Cloud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!! This is my take on exile!tommy! There is suicide and drowning involved in this!!

He knew they didn’t care about him. It was obvious, he should’ve realized it sooner. The rain poured down on him, he couldn’t find a reason to move. His eyes were glazed over, blankly staring at the ocean in front of him. 

He always struggled getting their attention as a kid, why would it change now? He was the forgotten one. He’d come to accept that causing chaos and destruction was the only way he was going to get any sort of affection, he was fine with that. The habits he’d picked up from it were questionable, he thinks Phil called him a pyromaniac at one point. He can’t remember. He doesn’t remember much these days, glimpses of L’Manburg and of his family flashed behind his eyes whenever he closed them. 

He wonders if L’Manburg has changed in the ten months he’d been gone. At least, he thinks it’s been ten months. He’d stopped counting the days after the fourth month. He’d stopped counting when Wilbur stopped visiting. Dream was the only one to visit anymore, stopping by once a week to make sure he wasn’t up to anything bad. As much as he hated the man, he’d come to look forward to the visits. They were the only thing keeping him holding onto the final piece of sanity.

A shiver runs through him, jolting him back to the present. His hands shook, it looked like they had a blue tinge to them as well. Maybe Wilbur would come back if Tommy was made of blue. His shirt was drenched, he didn’t have the energy to make a new one so the tears in it only grew with each passing sunrise. It did little to retain his body heat, he couldn’t care less. He found he liked the cold more than the burning heat of the Nether. He liked not being able to feel the tips of his fingers, the pain coming when he tried to warm them up again reminding him that he was still alive. Ghosts can’t feel pain after all. 

Maybe that would be nicer. The more he thought about it, not being able to feel pain, the more the idea grew on him. He wouldn’t have to worry about the discs if he were dead. They were just pieces of plastic in the end, they held no real meaning. Maybe people would like him again if he were dead, just like they had with Wilbur.

He felt himself stand up, his body no longer felt like his own. With shaky steps, he made his way down to the edge of the beach and watched as the water moved around his shoes. The water looked more welcoming than the lava had.

Realistically, he knew the water was going to be cold. It hadn’t stopped raining in days. He still flinched with the first step he took. He felt a smile form on his face at the sensation of the water hitting his shins. He was still alive, somehow. He was still breathing, he still had the chance to turn around. He stopped, the water nearly reaching his waist. Did he want this? If he died, would anyone care? Dream would find the camp abandoned and made his own conclusion about what might’ve happened, but would anyone find his body?

He inhaled sharply. Why should he care if anyone finds him? They didn’t deserve a body to bury, it would be his final act of defiance. His mind was made up and he took another step forward. His mind was sluggish, perhaps the cold was finally getting to him. He read somewhere about the signs of hypothermia, but he couldn’t remember what they were.

The water had reached his shoulders now. The cold temperature prevented him from taking proper amounts of oxygen into his lungs. He took another step forward, but his foot never touched the sand below. He plunged underwater and, for a second, his body struggled to swim back to the surface. As he sank lower, his brain telling him he needed to get back above the water so he could breathe, he let his thoughts drift to his family and Tubbo. He could remember the bench he and Tubbo liked to watch sunsets on, he remembered when Wilbur taught him how to play the guitar, and the time Techno taught him how to properly sword fight. 

His mind fills with panic as he inhales nothing but water. Why was he doing this? His hands claw at his throat in a desperate attempt to stop the burning he felt. He tried to hold his breath, maybe it would stop the water from entering his lungs.  _ Why did he do this?  _

He knew why and he was okay with this. No matter what his brain tried to tell him, this was the option he chose. Whether there was another way out, he didn’t care. He wanted this. Because for once in his life, all the attention would be on him for once. Not Wilbur, not Techno, not Tubbo, but him.

The smile on his face softened as he finally gave into unconsciousness. Maybe they’d give him a big funeral, one to rival Schlatt’s. Or maybe, they’d never find out. Dream might lie and say he’d just run away. Either worked for him, as long as they cared one last time.

Dream was the one who found his body. It had washed up onto the sand after the storm had ended. The masked man thought Tommy was just asleep when he came through the portal. When the teen didn’t answer, he went to investigate. He would never admit to making the noise that fell from his lips when he realized why Tommy wasn’t responding.


End file.
